Bronze, Silver, and Gold
by Gamemakers
Summary: Chaff, Wonder, and Breandan have all done well to be left as the final three contestants, but in the Hunger Games, second place counts for nothing.
1. Bronze

**A/N:** As you might already suspect, I don't own the Hunger Games. The T rating is for canon-typical violence throughout.

* * *

She rubbed her thumb over the simple golden locket, smiling down at the tiny pictures of her brother and sister she had pasted inside. Wonder traced the nine-year-olds' golden hair and perfectly proportioned faced with her finger. All she wanted now was to go back to them, to see their smiling faces again. The house and the money would be nice, but all she was really fighting for were her parents and twin siblings. Not that she would ever say that out loud. For all the hell she'd gone through in this Arena, she deserved every reward a victor was entitled to.

Sixteen days in the Arena and eighteen tributes dead. Not good enough. A cannon sounded, and Wonder amended that thought. Sixteen days in the Arena and _nineteen_ tributes dead. Better. She allowed herself a small, satisfied smirk.

The other remaining Careers stirred at the sound. Cassius, the District Two man, barely glanced up before going back to sleep, but the others sat up and turned to look at Wonder. "One of ours?" asked Breandan sleepily.

Wonder shook her head before she remembered that the three others probably couldn't see her in the dimly lit cavern. "No. It was either the Eight girl or the Eleven boy."

The District Four man grunted and folded his arms over his head to block out the little light in the tunnel, leaving just Wonder and Bridgid.

"I'm not sure what time it is, but do you want to switch?" the District Four woman asked sweetly. Though she had seen Bridgid slice two tributes with the nasty fishing knife she carried, Wonder had long since decided the girl didn't have what it took to win the Hunger Games. She was too gentle, too kind to do what needed to be done to survive, and as far as Wonder was concerned, that was the best kind of competition.

"No thanks. I've only been on watch for an hour or so. I'll wake you up when I need a break."

Bridgid nodded and gave Wonder a smile before she fell back asleep. She wondered for a moment if it would be hard to kill her when that time came, but she pushed that thought from her mind. Bridgid's death might hurt a bit more than the others she had killed already, but it was far, far better than the possibility of the Four girl getting her first. Wonder sat back and thought about her options as she watched Cassius, Bridgid, and Breandan's chests rise and fall in long, steady breaths. All of them slept peacefull, but she knew that this peace would soon be broken. The Career pack could not last much longer; with only one non-Career tribute left, it wouldn't be long before the pack imploded. Her slight build would do her no favors when the fighting started, as even Bridgid must have a good three inches and twenty pounds on her. She would be an easy target, a quick kill to add to the others' tallies. Wonder needed to escape now, before one of her companions snapped.

She waited for half an hour, checking a few times that the other tributes were truly asleep before gathering the supplies she would need for the next few days. Wonder grabbed a small knife, a first aid kit, and enough food and water to last her a couple days. She glanced around for anything else useful, but everything that remained was too heavy or bulky to carry with her. Hopefully, her mentor had enough money left to send her anything else she needed. Wonder hoisted the heavy pack onto her shoulders, checked that she still had her throwing knives and sword, and slipped out of the cavern.

This Arena was unlike any she'd ever seen, and since her trainers had held weekly screenings of past Games, Wonder thought she had seen the extent of the Gamemakers' creativity. This shattered that preconception. Entirely underground, it consisted of a maze of narrow, dark tunnels and large, open caverns. The weak, artificial lights that served as the only light source were only kept on for about twelve hours a day, so any tribute that had not found night vision glasses at the Cornucopia would be blind for hours on end. By the sooty, dark walls, Wonder guessed that the Arena was meant to resemble a coal mine, probably as an advantage for those pitiful District Twelve tributes. Their district had brought home only one victor, and it had been at least forty years since they'd last managed to win. Wonder sneered at the Capitol's obvious attempt to get a halfway competent mentor for that district. It wasn't fair to the non-useless Career tributes, and it hadn't even helped Twelve. Both of them had died at the Cornucopia, worthless to the end.

She walked for about an hour before she heard the first cannon. Almost immediately, a second followed. Wonder ran now, hurrying to get away from the other tributes. One of the Careers had probably killed off the others. As she ran, she tried to determine who could be left. Bridgid was almost certainly gone – she would never stab the others in the back like that. That left the Eleven boy whose name she didn't remember and either Cassius or Breandan. Or maybe the others had found Eleven and he'd managed to take one of them down with him. Either way, there were only three tributes left. The Games couldn't last much longer now.

Wonder found a good spot to rest for the night. It was in the middle of a long stretch of narrow tunnel and had a ladder to another level nearby. If anyone happened upon her during the night, she should be able to escape. She sat down, readying herself for a good night's sleep. She had only slept for a couple hours before her watch the night before, and she would need to be well-rested if she was going to win this thing.

The lights flickered for a moment before shutting off completely. The anthem echoed through the chambers, and Wonder looked up to see the faces of today's fallen tributes: Cassius and Bridgid. So Breandan and Eleven were still out there. Wonder wished that she'd paid more attention to the Eleven boy during training. She knew he was physically strong just by looking at him, but she knew nothing of his strengths and weaknesses. She needed more information to make a plan of attack. Wonder forced those thoughts away. All she needed now was sleep; regretting past decisions would get her nowhere. The cold, stone floor was uncomfortable, but eventually Wonder was able to force herself to sleep.

She dreamed about Bridgid that night. The other woman dangled off the tip of the Cornucopia, brown eyes filled with fear, while hundreds of fist-sized beetle mutts with pointed mandibles waited below. All of them clicked with joy each time Bridgid's hold on the rock loosened. "Wonder, help me! Please, don't let me fall!" she screamed. Wonder stood above the redheaded girl, debating whether or not to help her. "No, please Wonder, they'll eat me!" Bridgid shrieked. She came to her decision. Wonder stepped onto Bridgid's fingers, making the Four girl lose her grip. Before Bridgid fell, she looked up at Wonder and smiled, grabbing her ankle and pulling the other woman down with her.

Wonder snapped awake, panting with terror. Her clothes were damp with sweat, and her heart was still racing. She calmed her breathing, trying to bring herself back to her surroundings. It was a dream, nothing else. She shouldn't let it rattle her, especially this late in the competition.

She heard a long, low hiss, and her blood froze. There was something in here with her. Wonder pushed down her night vision goggles. She shrieked and scrambled to her feet. A two meter-long, acid-green centipede skittered towards her. Each of its legs was as thick and long as her arm. Its jaws clamed open and shut as it rushed towards her, as though it was excited for a fresh meal. The instant she turned to run away, Wonder spotted another of the creatures down the hall. Her heart beat against her ribs, and she wondered for an instant if this was the end. As a hairy leg brushed against her foot, she remembered the ladder. Kicking at something hard and chitonous, she scurried up the first several rungs just before the first centipede could snap its mandibles around her ankle.

Wonder examined the hatch at the top for a long moment. Where did it lead? Who was behind it? She was tempted to just sit here until the centipedes left, but then one of them started to climb up the wall. Wonder let out a yelp pushed open the door and climbed inside, slamming it after her. With any luck, there wouldn't be any mutts up here to contend with. She shined her flashlight onto all of the nearby surfaces, letting out a sigh of relief when she saw they were clear. Her mother had always said to be grateful for even the smallest of miracles.

She needed to find the other tributes. Now that a day had passed without a kill, the Capitolites would be desperate for action. The Gamemakers would almost certainly send more mutts after her or force her into a confrontation with the others. It was best to hunt Breandan and Eleven down – she would at least be able to fight them on her own terms. She listened intently for any sound that would suggest another tribute, and when she heard nothing, chose a direction at random.

It didn't take long for Wonder to find her target. She entered a passage at the same time as Eleven came in through the opposite entrance. Why did he have a shovel? No time to worry about that now. Actually, no time to worry about _anything_ now. Wonder couldn't pause to think and plan. She needed to act _now_ if she wanted to survive the next few minutes. She drew her sword and sprinted towards the man.

Wonder raised her sword, ready to strike, but his blow landed first. A sickening crack echoed through the chamber as the metal end of Eleven's shovel came down on her head. She knew she should be in terrible pain, but right now, she couldn't feel anything. Wonder struck blindly with her sword, hoping that she would hit something essential and make him pay for what he'd done to her. She could feel blood running down her arm, but she wasn't sure whether it was his or hers. A giddy, giggling part of her suggested it could be a mixture of the two. That piece of Wonder thought the possibility was hilarious. The rest of her had to disagree.

He continued to strike her with his shovel. It hurt now. Everywhere was awash with pain, even the places he hadn't hit her. Wonder's legs gave out underneath her. She was going to have a lot of bruises from this. She still refused to believe she was going to die. Still, Eleven's shovel came down again and again. She tried to stab at his ankles with her sword, but she was too weak to do any damage. Blood ran into her eyes, stinging them. Maybe that was what was causing her vision to narrow. Breathing hurt. She wanted to stop and let her lungs rest. Instead, she screamed, but the sound that came out was little more than a squeak. Wonder needed to stop being so pitiful, needed to gather her remaining strength and stop Eleven. But she couldn't. Wonder was weak, and useless, and everything she hated.

She laid there, unmoving, as Eleven dug his shovel into her throat, and she stayed still long afterwards, as her body turned cold and Eleven grabbed her weapon and supplies. She did nothing as a panel retracted and dragged her body inside for transport back to One.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks for reading! This was originally posted in a different form in August of 2014 and subsequently removed, but after some editing, I decided that I wanted to post this story again. I will have the other two chapters up shortly. This was written for the Caesar's Palace prompt _bronze._


	2. Silver

At the sound of the cannon, Breandan jolted awake and reached for his trident. With the comforting weight of the weapon in his hands, he pushed down his night vision googles and studied the tunnel for any attackers, ready and almost excited to strike. Disappointed when he found nothing, he turned towards the guard's usual spot. "One of ours?"

"No. It was either the Eight girl or the Eleven boy," answered Wonder. Just to be certain, he had another quick look around the mine. Yes, Cassius and Bridgid were still there. _Good. Nobody's decided to cut up the rest of the pack yet._ He grinned. _Glad to see they're leaving that for me._ He gave Wonder a smile that had melted plenty of hearts back home, but she just stared into the distance. Perhaps she hadn't noticed him, or considering what he planned for her later, maybe she was being smart and choosing to give him the cold shoulder. Either way, it didn't really matter to him.

Breandan forced himself to close his eyes and try to go back to sleep. This might be one of his last chances to get some rest in the Arena. He quickly fell into the gray area between wakefulness and sleep, and though he could hear Wonder talking to his district partner, but he was too tired to hush them or even understand what they were saying. A part of him thought they were plotting against him, but that fear was not so great that he could resist the pull of sleep. For the first time in weeks, he enjoyed a dreamless rest.

* * *

The chamber was quiet. _Too_ quiet. Breandan rolled onto his stomach and rested his weight on his elbows as he surveyed the room. At first, nothing seemed wrong. Bridgid slept a few feet away from him, and Cassius snored on the other side of her. Wonder was… _there's the problem. The bitch left us._

Fuck her. Breandan had never liked her anyway. With her brains and good looks, she had made a useful ally and attracted lots of Capitol sponsors, but he'd always suspected she'd pull something like this. Attractiveness didn't allow one to win the Hunger Games the right way; the pretty ones always had to resort to tricks like this. She'd probably stolen the supplies as well. A quick glance told him everything he needed to know. Yes, at least a third of what they had earlier this evening was gone. He would get her and rip that pretty blonde hair from her head. Without a scalp, nobody looks pretty. Breandan would show her how _real_ tributes played the Hunger Games. His grip on his trident tightened, and a wolfish grin came to his face. These Games were finally starting to be a bit fun.

Though he longed to storm after Wonder, Breandan stopped to think for a moment. Probably best to get rid of Cassius now. The Two man was big and fuck he was good with that sword, and Breandan wasn't sure who would win in a fair fight between the two of them. Bridgid… Bridgid was more difficult. He'd known her for as long as he could remember, and he couldn't go back to District Four the Victor who'd murdered his district partner in cold blood. The people back home loved their Victors almost unconditionally for the wealth they could provide, but there were boundaries better left uncrossed. Perhaps she could help him. Together, they could hunt down Wonder and the other tribute. Yes, that could work. Maybe Bridgid would die along the way. And, if it was just the two of them at the end, nobody would think the worse of him for walking out of this hellhole over her dead body. Perfect.

He tried to nudge Bridgid awake, but the woman didn't stir. "Come on, Bridgid," he whispered. Still, she didn't move. Breandan couldn't risk Cassius waking up, so he let the woman be. The cannon would certainly be enough to wake her.

Breandan lined the trident up with Cassius's exposed neck. He'd done it countless times in training that the move was mechanical, unthinking and unfeeling. He pulled his arm back, ready to bring the weapon down on the other man's neck, but before he could finish his task, his hands began to shake. Could he really do this, kill another person in their sleep? Breandan paused for just an instant before pushing aside his guilt and driving the trident deep into Cassius's throat. The Two man's eyes opened in shock, and blood dribbled from his mouth and from around the prongs as he tried to scream. Breandan clamped his eyes shut and waited for it to be over. He had killed three other tributes in this Arena, but he hadn't known them. They hadn't been _personal_ the way that Cassius's murder was. Finally, the cannon sounded, and the muscles of Breandan's face relaxed as he accepted the reality of what he'd just done and would do again.

He looked down at the weapon in his hands, watched as blood dripped from its deadly points. Three left to go, but he could make it two right now. Breandan tightened the grip on the trident and closed the last few feet between himself and Bridgid.

The redheaded woman looked up at him sleepily. "Breandan, who was it?" She sat up on the blanket she'd been sleeping on. "Not ones of ours, right? That means only the Careers are left." Bridgid reached for her knives, but she froze halfway through the motion. Her features morphed into absolute terror as she saw Cassius's body for the first time. She shook her head slowly, and her body began to tremble as she backed away from him. "No, no, you didn't…"

Breandan couldn't find his voice. He stared down at her as Bridgid's hand snaked out to grab her knife, but he stepped on her hand before she could lift the weapon. "Don't," he warned. He could make this easy on her if she would just stay still.

She hit the side of his knee with all the power she could manage and sprinted away from him. Breandan was momentarily thrown off balance, but he quickly recovered. He squared his feet and drew back his arm more from muscle memory than any conscious thought. Exhaling, he released his weapon. He watched it glide through the air in a perfect arc before piercing Bridgid's back. The world slowed as the impact forced her chest forward and she stumbled, falling to the floor with a _thud_ that echoed through the chamber. Bridgid writhed on the ground, her face contorted with pain and anger. "You _bastard_!" she screamed. She clutched her knife in her hand, and though Breandan was certain she longed to throw it towards him, something stopped her. He didn't know if it her body could no longer gather the muscle control it needed to complete the task or if years of being told not to kill her district partner were holding her back. Either way, Breandan could see the life ebbing in her eyes.

He crouched down next to her. "I'm so sorry, Bridgid," he said, prying her knife out of her weakening grip. "But you had to die so I can go home."

She fisted her hand in his shirt, and Breandan patted her hair. She seemed to understand his gesture, for she did not pull away, but instead rested her cheek against his knee. "I hate you," she said as her blood soaked her clothing and the ground beneath her.

Breandan could do nothing but nod and stroke her hair in response. Too soon, Bridgid stilled. He kept his hand in her hair for other minute or so, not willing yet to accept that he'd killed his partner, but eventually, he forced himself to rise. "I'm sorry, Bridgid," he said. "I hate myself, too."

He did not have the luxury of mourning his friend for long. Now more than ever, he needed to be practical. Breandan grabbed the bare essentials from the pile of supplies before dousing the rest with a bit of fuel and lighting a match. He hated to seeing so many possible advantages go up in flames, but there was no need to risk them falling into the hands of Wonder or the other remaining tribute when they could easily be destroyed. Breandan debated for a moment which way to go. The winding passages had disoriented him from the moment he stepped off his pedestal, and he had no idea which direction he should go to find the other tributes. Eventually, he settled on choosing a path at random. If the Gamemakers wanted him to go a different way, they would let him know.

Two more. That was it. After that, he could go home to District Four a Victor. They would forgive him for what he did to Bridgid once they received their first packages from the Year of Plenty. No one could hate him if he was only thing keeping their children from starving.

Perhaps, eventually, he would even be able to forgive himself.

His first step had to be to find Wonder. Breandan had no idea how to track her down in these tunnels, but that bitch had to die. If it weren't for her, the Career pack wouldn't have had to end so quickly. If it weren't for her, he might not have killed Bridgid. There would be no forgiveness for the pain she had caused him.

He kept walking for many hours, hate fueling him far longer than food or water could. Eventually, though, the lights in the tunnel began to flicker, and Breandan sat down for a quick rest. He needed to know which other tributes were still alive, and the only way to do that was to watch the broadcast after the anthem. Anyway, it would be good to allow his body some rest before he continued on his hunt. Sore muscles sighed in relief as he leaned back against the stone wall of the tunnel, and Breandan wrapped himself in the warm blanket and ate a few bits of his quickly dwindling food supply as he waited for the familiar sound of the anthem.

Finally, it began to play. He managed to keep his expression neutral as he saw Cassius's face on the ceiling, but when Bridgid's replaced it, Breandan could feel tears streaking down his cheeks. He forced himself to continue watching. Neither the Gamemakers nor the audience in the Capitol would favor a weakling. The features of a dark-haired girl followed, and a number eight shined behind her. That left the man from Eleven that Breandan had noticed during training and, of course, Wonder.

Eleven was an unknown quantity. Breandan remembered that the man – Chaff, he thought, or something of the like – had volunteered, and he'd lifted some heavy weights during training. Obviously, he was smart, or at least very lucky, to have survived this long, but that was all he had to go on. This was going to be a challenge. Breandan gritted his teeth, put his blanket back in his pouch, and started walking again. He trekked for hours, becoming more and more confused by the caverns as he went. Breandan couldn't tell which direction he was moving or even if he had been here before. Everything looked the same: the sooty, black walls, the electric lights, the long, slightly curved tunnels that stretched on for miles. The large, open chambers were the only change in the scenery that he could pick up on, and even then, he could not be sure that he was not just seeing the same high ceiling and black walls over and over again.

After a day of walking, he could hardly wait to sleep. There had been no cannon fire today, but Breandan paid close attention during the anthem anyway. It was not unheard of for tributes to not notice the shot of cannon, but he had not. Wrapped snugly in his blanket and clutching his trident close to his chest, he drifted off to sleep.

For the second night in a row, he was awoken by a loud bang. _Time to end this_. Breandan forced himself upright. Every muscle in his body ached from the strange angle he'd slept in, but he couldn't waste a minute stretching to stop the pain. With only one other tribute left, every second was crucial. A sponsor gift had been left during the night, and he quickly put on the armored breastplate that his mentor had provided. "Thank you, Mags," he said, offering a mock salute for the cameras. He thought District Four's mentor would appreciate that.

"Any ideas which way I should go?" he asked out loud.

Breandan didn't really expect an answer, but the Gamemakers provided one. A low, rumbling sound echoed through the tunnels, and the ground beneath him began to shake. Breandan had heard of the earthquakes that plagued District One, but he had never experienced one firsthand. He ran when he saw that the tunnel to his left was beginning to collapse. Though almost certain he'd been in these tunnels before, he did not know where the Gamemakers were sending him. Breandan realized belatedly that he'd left his pack in the other tunnel, but he couldn't go back for it now, and anything crushed under ten tons of rock would be of little use to him in any case. He probably wouldn't need the supplies. In an hour, he would be in the Capitol; the only question was whether his mother's tears would be of joy or mourning.

No time for those thoughts now. With his armor and trident, Breandan felt confident in his ability to win. Eleven might be strong and smart, but he hadn't trained the way Breandan had. He had devoted every day of the last ten years to making him into a Victor; now, it was time for all that work to pay off. A smile spread across his features as he saw the Cornucopia come into view. This would be over soon.

He saw a flash of something out of the corner of his eye and turned to look. That was his final mistake. The shovel and his skull connected with a sickening _crack._ Breandan saw a dark-skinned man running towards him, and though he could still feel the trident in his hands, he couldn't raise it, couldn't do anything to stop the other man. It didn't make sense, but nothing made sense now. His knees gave out beneath him, and Breandan felt himself fall backwards. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

* * *

 **A/N:** Written using the C/P prompt _silver._


	3. Gold

She huddled back against the wall of the cavern, brown eyes wide with fear as he approached. Chaff wished she would do something. Run away, try to fight back, _anything_ to make him forget that he was about to murder this little girl. He'd learned these last few weeks that killing on instinct was simple, but now that he had to think about what he was about to do, he didn't know if he could bring himself to finish her off. The girl was shaking now, her too-thin arms and legs knocking against each other as she tried to press herself even more tightly against the wall.

Chaff took another step towards her, and she stared up at him, craning her neck back so she could see his face. Her ashen skin paled, and Chaff felt like he was going to be sick. "Make it quick," she whispered.

He felt as though he was far outside his body as he killed her, as he watched some other Chaff break the neck of an unarmed thirteen year old. That Chaff didn't particularly care that she had been smart to survive for three weeks in the Games, or that she had a family in Eight that cared about her, or even that this little corpse had once been a little girl. That Chaff only cared that he was now one death closer to going home.

He smiled to himself as he went through her meager supplies, even though he found only a small knife, perhaps a meal's worth of bread, and the remnants of a basic first aid kit. For the first time in days, he felt like he had an actual chance of winning. There were only four other tributes left. True, they were all competent Careers, but for now, that was just a detail. He'd be back home within the week. Apple would be happy to see him again. She had not wanted him to volunteer, and the beautiful honey-skinned young woman had come close to begging him the weeks before the Reaping to stay in Eleven with her. They would get married, she said, right after the Reaping. They were both eighteen, so why not? When that didn't work, she had threatened to leave him if he did manage to come back alive. Chaff gave that promise little worry. When he came home and became the richest man in the district, she'd change her mind. Apple wasn't stupid – she knew that she could have a good life as a Victor's wife and wouldn't allow such a petty argument to come between them. It'd be fine. At least, that was what Chaff told himself late at night when he worried.

Chaff took a quick bite of the dead girl's bread, savoring the flavor on his tongue before he swallowed. That was one thing about the Arena: all the food here was better than what they were allowed in Eleven. Maybe the Capitol people thought it looked bad, but even stale from days in the Eight girl's pack, it still had a slight sweetness to it that made Chaff want to scarf it down all at once. He resisted the urge and put it back in his backpack. There was no way of knowing when he'd find his next meal. He'd never seen such a hostile Arena; deep in the mining shafts, there were no plants, so almost all of the food had come from the Cornucopia or been distributed as sponsor gifts. So far, the only food Chaff had managed to scavenge had been finger-length brown insects. Though he'd hardly managed to swallow them the first day, he was now quite fond of the little bugs. They kept him alive, and that was the greatest gift anything could give. He might even try to find a few when he got back home. Maybe.

 _Boom. Boom._ Two cannons meant two dead, three left. Events were moving quickly now. He continued to walk, hoping that he was putting more distance between himself and the other tributes. A thought came to him. Both of them had to be Careers. Chaff groaned, surprised when he heard his own voice echoing off the cavern walls. After close to two weeks of silence, it felt strange to hear himself speak. He stopped and listened, hearing his voice fade to nothingness. _Interesting_. He stomped one foot, hearing the sound it made as well, distinct from the dripping water and scatter of tiny insects on the stone walls. Chaff spent the rest of the day walking and listening, stowing any information that could possibly be useful away for later.

He was still walking when the lights began to flicker. Chaff put down his shovel and sat down next to the wall. Which tributes were left didn't really matter now. He might not know their names or faces, but they would be two Career tributes, each as well-trained and deadly as they came. Still, he watched the broadcast. Might as well – it wasn't as though there was any other entertainment in his life.

The faces of the redheaded woman from Four and the giant man from Two lit up the ceiling. Chaff was glad he hadn't bothered to learn anyone's name during Training - he might actually have given a shit that way. Finally, the Eight girl appeared above him. _Breathe, Chaff_. He couldn't. _No, it wasn't supposed to be like this_. A bit of difficulty didn't mean he was cracking. Eight had been littler than all the other ones he'd killed. It must just be her youth that was making him feel so guilty. Sponsors did not want to see tributes breaking down at the final three, so Chaff wiped his face of any emotion. He could do this. He had to.

* * *

Thoughts of the little Eight girl kept him awake for hours. Again and again, he saw her neck at that sickening angle, her eyes wide with surprise. He wanted to know whether she'd been surprised by how much or how little it hurt. Chaff wondered idly if she had reached her family in Eight yet. It had been twenty-four hours at least since her death. Maybe her mother had just received the body. _No, don't think about it_. He needed to stay cool for the cameras, and thinking of the child he'd murdered wouldn't help. There was no way to know if the broadcast was showing him right now, but since there were only three tributes left, the chances of it were pretty good. Chaff snorted in amusement as he waved to the empty room. There had to be a camera here to record it.

At some point during the night, he must have dozed off, because a _clang_ startled him from sleep. Chaff clutched his shovel and slipped on the pair of night-vision goggles that had proven so useful in the last few days. He saw nothing as he scanned the tunnels, but that didn't mean that nothing was out there. Light footsteps echoed through the tunnels. Chaff turned to his right and raised his shovel.

No other noises came, but Chaff could not rest knowing that someone, _something_ , was out there. He cautiously walked to the end of the tunnel and turned. Not thirty meters away from him stood the blonde woman from One. Her body went rigid when she saw him, but before he could stop and think of a plan, she hurled herself towards him with her sword raised. _Fuck_. He was really going to die this time; nothing could stop it now, unless…

 _Thud_. His shovel connected with her skull before she could stab him. The woman was knocked back a few steps, but she came after him again. This time, he couldn't stop her from cutting his arm, a deep slice from wrist to elbow that he could feel scraping against bone. Chaff groaned in pain and struck her again with the shovel. How was this woman still standing? Shouldn't a blow to the head be enough to knock her out at least? She still fought, though her strength was obviously ebbing. Her blows were not as precise now, and they lacked the power that he had seen her exhibit during training. He hit her again, this time harder. Still she did not die. Three, four, five more blows and she finally fell to the ground. Chaff couldn't let her get up again. He continued to hit her head and torso, determined that he would not stop until he knew he was dead. She couldn't be allowed to come after him another time. Only when her head was no longer identifiable as human did he set down his shovel. A cannon quickly followed.

Chaff examined the corpse in front of him. After killing the Eight girl, he had thought that this would be difficult. It hadn't been. Yes, it was a bit upsetting to think that it had been him who marred that once-perfect face, but he wasn't disgusted by himself. It was simple, really. If he wanted to go home, she had to die. When he thought of it like that, nothing seemed too bad. One more night with Apple, a chance to see another glimpse of anything that wasn't this damn Arena was easily worth any nameless girl from District One. Grateful for the Eight girl's first aid pack, he picked a long length of bandage and wound it around the wound. That should be enough for the next few hours. Surely the Capitol would take care of it if he made it out alive, and well, if he didn't, he wouldn't have any use for an arm anymore.

 _One down, one to go_. Chaff took the sword from the body and walked in the direction of the Cornucopia. With any luck, the Gamemakers would decide to keep with tradition and hold the finale there. Soon, he had to stop. The cut on his arm still hurt like hell, and he was starting to feel faint. He peeled the cloth away from the wound to see that it was still bleeding. His dark skin had taken on a pale undertone in the area, and streams of blood still flowed down his arm.

Chaff grimaced. He hadn't expected it to be this bad. He stood for a moment, just thinking. The injury would slow him down, and this late in the Games he could risk no distractions. He felt sick to his stomach as he came to his decision. Chaff used the dead woman's sword to cut off a long piece of his jacket. With shaking hands, he brought the cloth to his upper arm and tied it tightly around his bicep, cutting off all blood flow to his hand and the cut. Going home would be worth his arm as well, he hoped. Maybe, if he won this quickly enough, the Capitol's doctors would be able to save his arm. Of course they would. They'd do anything for a victor.

He held both the shovel and the sword in one hand and entered the enormous cavern that held the Cornucopia. Chaff settled himself against one wall and waited. Hopefully, it would not be long until the Four man arrived. One hour passed, then two. Chaff began to worry that he wasn't coming. Perhaps the Gamemakers had decided on a different location for the finale this year. Maybe they were waiting for Chaff to run out of water before sending Four in to finish him off. Maybe –

 _No._ He could feel a slight vibration beneath his feet, and Chaff rose. He glanced towards the other tunnels and could see that they were shaking far worse than this chamber. He should stay here and wait for Four – judging by past Games, if the Gamemakers wanted him somewhere else, they would let him know.

Apparently, they were just fine with where he was now. In the distance, he could see a figure dashing towards the Cornucopia. Chaff backed up a few steps so that Four could not see him from the tunnel and took a deep breath. In a few minutes, for better or for worse, this would all be over. He clutched the shovel tightly, and when he saw the other tribute, he threw it as hard as he could towards the man. Chaff swore under his breath when he noticed a fraction of a second later that the man was wearing chest armor. His shovel would do little damage against that. He should accept death now. Hopefully, Apple would forgive him.

But Fate smiled upon Chaff that day, and Four turned his head towards the incoming projectile. A beautiful ringing noise filled the chamber as the metal of the shovel and the armor met, but the shovel's handle hit the Four man's forehead as well. He almost immediately fell unconscious and collapsed unceremoniously into a heap on the ground. Chaff breathed a sigh of relief, and his eyes welled up in tears. He'd done it. He could go home.

Only one task left to do. He picked up the sword and walked towards the fallen tribute. One efficient cut later, it was all over. Chaff dropped the sword and sat down with his knees tucked to his chest, waiting. Sitting there, next to the body of the man he'd killed, only one thought repeated again and again in his mind. _It's easy to deal out death. The hard part is living with yourself afterwards._

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 **A/N:** Thank you so much for reading, and extra thanks to anyone who has reviewed, followed, or favorited. I really hope you've enjoyed the story! This chapter was written using the Caesar's Palace prompt _gold._


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